Poetry | Stories | Photography
The fog gathers, caressing the trees;
The trees see their reflection on the surface;
The lake’s surface is their mirror.
The mirror reveals what the trees want to see;
The fog clouds their judgement;
The lake plays games with the wise old trees.
A mysterious fog
hangs about
the fabled woods.
Sitting still on
the surface
watching the water.
Listening to the
calm sounds
of the lake song.
a still lake morning
a tea, and coffee for one
yelling at the lake
Lips of rose, powdered ivory cheeks,
dark long hair moving as she moved,
eyes of violet ice, mitten coal hands.
She was a flower in full bloom dancing
for freedom on the lake that snowy day.
I was only a young, foolish boy, watching
the way she moved, captivated, knowing.
Lips of rose turned white, ivory cheeks froze,
dark long hair became still, her eyes closed,
the mittens no longer danced in the snow.
I fled from her stillness, forever running from
that beautiful face I never stopped to love.
Yesterday hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.
Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
Hearts must be ready waiting for time.
Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, crystallising.
A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food or else she will be the next meal.
Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.
The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.
Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish, for insomnia and jam are no strangers.
She sits on the fence for a while deciding,
until the desire for sweet outweighs reason.
a solitary figure stands on the lakeshore
lost in deep contemplation
the many shadows take her thoughts
feeling subtle vibrations
so many hidden details in the landscape
revealing differences within
the sound of birds singing their song
looking into her reflection
C & K 